Allie
by Got Tea
Summary: Grissom and Sara's daughter, Allie, has a run in with someone from the past. How will she and her parents react?
1. Chapter 1

Breathing in the cool desert night air as she exited the building, Allie Grissom bade her co-workers good night and hurried across the parking lot to her silver Ford Escape. Sliding in and starting the engine, she cranked up the stereo and headed for the freeway, trying to relax and shake off the days' tension. She was the seasonal department supervisor in the craft store she had just left, and she loved every minute of her job, but a fellow employees' family emergency had today left her manning guest services. Normally she wouldn't mind, but with forth quarter and the holidays rapidly approaching, she really needed every spare scrap of time she had. And today had just been one of those days; every other guest had been a problem guest, there had been kids setting off the emergency door alarms and a group of teenage punks sitting in the back, sniffing sharpies. Shifting in the seat, Allie let it all drift away from her. She figured she was far to young to let such things bother her. At eighteen, Allie was the youngest supervisor in the store, something that had rattled more than a few longtime employees'. But she had deserved the position when it was offered to her ten months ago and ever since she had run a tight ship, keeping track of her team members and making sure her area ran smoothly, not an easy task when the merchandise and seasons were constantly changing.

A short time later she pulled into the driveway of the small, but comfortable house where she lived with her parents and killed the engine. Grabbing her backpack and purse, she hurried inside, snagging a glass of milk and a chocolate chip cookie from the kitchen on her way to her room. She dumped her stuff and switched on her laptop, plugging in her ipod, checking her email and munching on her snack before heading to the bathroom to take a nice, hot, soothing shower. She let the water massage the tension out of her shoulders as she contemplated her homework. Class that morning had been boring, but then Wednesday mornings usually were. A third year student at UNLV, Allie, who had graduated high school just after her sixteenth birthday, was majoring in anthropology with a minor in history. Her schedule was three days a week, Wednesday mornings and Tuesday and Thursday nights. It suited her fine; the less time she spent in a classroom the better. School was starting to wear thin on her. She had inherited her parents natural genius and thirst for knowledge, but most of her classes didn't really hold her attention. Climbing out of the shower she pulled on green flannel PJ bottoms and a black tanktop, then towel dried and brushed out her long, chocolate colored brown hair. It reached almost to her waist, so she pulled it back into a French braid. Grabbing a blanket her mother had given her as a child, she wrapped it around her shoulders and settled at her desk. Homework awaited. She typed out a three-page summary on her assigned reading of Dostoevsky and then turned her attention to a history paper she needed to finish. At one fifteen am the MSN messenger icon flashed on the screen and moments later she received a message from Nathan.

Hey Babe, r u awake?

Yeah, whatch doin?

Surfin, u?

Finishing hmwk.

1:15?

History paper!

Sucks!!!

No kidding!

How was work?

Fine, busy tho. Got stuck in Guest Service. U?

Boring. Not a single person all night.

So what'd u do all day?  
Hmwk. R u off tomorrow?

Yep, what u wanna do?

Lunch n a movie before school?

Sounds great, I missed u this last week

Missed u 2. See u tomorrow then, I gotta get some sleep.

K, love u

Love u 2

Yawning, Allie stood up and leaned over the computer to grab her documents from the printer. She laid them on the desk next to her schoolbooks and wandered out into the hallway and down to the family room. Too wired to sleep, she settled herself at the piano and began to play. She had fallen in love with the instrument at the age of three and after nagging her mother for weeks, had been allowed to take lessons. Now, fifteen years later, she taught a handful of young students and played in a local orchestra. Closing her eyes, she let everything fall away as she concentrated on the music. Since that first lesson she had played every single day, finding solace and calm in the music. Time slipped away from her and an hour passed, then another. She finished with a piece she had memorized just recently. Evanescence's My Immortal. As the last note died away, her fingers slipped from the keys and into her lap, where Indigo, one of her two cats, had settled. She lifted the kitty into her arms and walked back down the hallway to her room. Halfway there she heard a noise and turned to investigate.

"Tigga," she called, "is that you?" The other cat was nowhere to be seen, so Allie quickly checked the kitchen and living room areas, finding them empty. Shrugging, she headed to her room and found Tigga already sleeping on her bed. Crawling under the covers, Allie closed her eyes and wait for sleep to come.

But it didn't. Not five minutes later there was a crash in the hallway and as she leapt up, the cats vanished under the bed. Allie hadn't taken two steps toward the door when it flew open to reveal a tall, well built, twenty-something man. He advanced on her, snarling,

"Bitch!" When he lashed out, Allie didn't react quickly enough and his fist landed squarely in her stomach, knocking the wind out of her. But when he lunged again, she was ready, blocking him and striking back. Her mother had dragged her to self-defense classes, something which she was grateful for now. Though she managed to land a few blows, and scratch him sharply across the face, he was too big and powerful for her to fend off alone. When she landed a kick to his groin, he snarled again and shoved her hard into the bed. Her head connected solidly with the wall and everything went gray. She struggled to sit up, blinking tears and blood from her eyes. He was standing in the middle of the room, watching her, as if caught in a moment of indecision. For a moment their gazes met and held, then he turned and walked toward the door. There he stopped and turned, looking at her again. Slowly, he pulled from his belt a small black handgun, which he pointed at her.

"Why?" she croaked. He smiled and pulled the trigger twice in quick succession.


	2. Chapter 2

Sara Sidle Grissom frowned as she surveyed the footprints on the floor before her. Standing, she looked out of the window into the street and saw Detective Sophia Curtis standing by the open front door of her police cruiser, talking to a neighbor. Passing Nick Stokes in the hallway, Sara made her way outside and over to Sophia, arriving just as the neighbor left.

"Hey," she said, "did the suspect," she pointed to the teenage boy in the back of the car, "say anything about there being a third party involved?"

"He didn't say anything," replied Sophia, flatly. She was quiet a moment, then, "Why do you ask?"

"Because I don't think he did it." As she spoke, Sara felt Gil Grissom walked up behind her. She turned and smiled at him. He smiled back.

"I don't think he did either. There are footprints around the side of the house…" He didn't get any farther because at that moment the radio inside the car crackled to life.

"…This is Officer Wallis. I need back-up assistance, paramedics and CSI's to my location. 47321 Mendocino Avenue Las Vegas…"

Sara's face paled and she looked at Grissom. He stared right back for a moment, as though not quite comprehending, then bolted for one of the two Denali's parked behind the cop cars. Sara was hot on his heals, leaping into the passenger seat as the engine roared into life. Sophia stared after them, confused.

The ride back to their house passed in a blur of traffic lights and cars, as Grissom turned on the emergency lights and blew through every intersection, red or no, not slowing down until he screeched to a halt behind the emergency vehicles, cop cars and dark blue Chevy Denali already parked in or around his driveway. Sara was out of the car and running for the front door before Grissom had even shifted into park. Switching the ignition off and yanking out the keys, Grissom followed her. The officer at the door tried to stop Sara from entering, but she shoved him aside and thundered down the hall,

"Allie," she yelled, panic in her voice. She skidded to a stop outside Allie's room, almost slamming into Catherine Willows who had stuck her head out to see what all the commotion was.

"Sara? What are you…"

"Where's Allie?" shrieked Sara, frantic, her eyes searching the room. She gasped when her eyes fell on the overturned furniture and the blood spatter covering the wall behind the bed. Grissom craned his neck to see around Catherine and felt his stomach drop at the sight.

"Where is she?" he demanded of Catherine.

"They took her to Desert Palms."

"Why?"

"She was shot, twice, in the chest." At this, Sara let out a strangled scream and turned around, racing back to the car. Grissom was right behind her.

"Wait," Catherine called out, "What's going on? Who is she?" He stopped at the end of the hallway and turned back to look at her.

"Our daughter," he replied before hurrying off.

The ride the hospital seemed to take forever. Grissom drove like a maniac; Sara sat motionless in the passenger seat, her hand gripping the door handle. In reality it was a little over twenty minutes, but even for four-thirty in the morning traffic was relatively busy. Arriving, they ran inside and up to the desk.

"We're looking for a patient, Alexandra Grissom," Grissom told the receptionist.

"She's in surgery, you can wait down the hall," replied the woman, bored.

"No," snapped Sara, "I want to talk to someone, find out what's going on."

"The doctor will be with you as soon as possible." Sara started to protest, but Grissom took her by the hand and gently led her down the hallway to the waiting room. Inside, he drew her into his arms and held onto her tightly, feeling her tremble in his grasp, her heart rate quick and her breathing shallow. Sara rested her head on his chest, feeling the same tightness and fear in every muscle of his body that she felt in her own. She clung to him, breathing in his familiar scent and hoping against everything that Allie would be ok.

Detective Jim Brass waked swiftly down the hospital corridor headed for the waiting room. He had arrived at the scene of the attempted murder to learn from Catherine that Grissom and Sara had burst into the house looking for the victim, then bolted for the hospital. He peered into the waiting room through the glass window and saw his co-workers wrapped in each other's arms. Raising his eyebrows, he opened the door and went inside. Grissom looked up, his troubled gaze falling on Brass, leaving the detective with an uncomfortable feeling, as though he had interrupted a private moment. Then again, he considered, he probably had.

"Brass," said Grissom, his voice quiet. Sara shifted in his arms at the sound of his voice. She turned so that she was standing side by side with Grissom, his arm around her shoulders and his hand clasping hers.

"What's going on?" asked the detective, concern in his voice. Grissom said nothing, not knowing where to start. Sara stared at the floor.

"Ok," said Brass, thinking he'd better start slowly, "Who is the victim?"

"Alexandra Michaela Grissom, our daughter," Grissom told him.

"And the location, that's your house?"

"Yes, we moved there five years ago."

"We?"

"Sara, Allie and I." Brass rubbed his temples, his head pounding. Grissom sighed and started from the beginning.

"Nineteen years ago I spent six months out in Boston, teaching. Sara and I met at a seminar on entomology and forensics at Harvard. We spent a lot of time together and got to know each other very well, I'm sure you can imagine. Anyway, eventually I came back to Vegas and Sara stayed in Massachusetts, but we stayed in touch. Then, a few weeks later Sara found out that she was pregnant. I went back to see her and we talked and decided that staying together was not our best option, though we wanted it. She was still in school, and I had my job here. I've always been a part of Allie's life though- I was there when she was born, and I visited whenever possible. Then, when Holly Gribbs died nine years ago I called Sara in. At first it was strange, living in the same town and working together, but after a while, about three years, we started to see each other outside of work and Allie." Grissom paused, remembering the night she had come to his office at the end of shift and asked him to have dinner with her. He remembered shooting her down, the hurt in her eyes, and the inner turmoil he'd felt, sitting in the doctor's office after. He had realized that along with his hearing, he was losing time. He had gone to her apartment and apologized. They had shared breakfast, and the next evening, dinner. Over the next few months their relationship had evolved, until he asked her to marry him. She had said yes, and the ceremony had taken place soon after, just the two of them, Allie and Grissom's mother. "We've been married for just over six years, together for almost seven," he continued. "You are the first person to find out, with the exception of Janet in HR."

Stunned, Brass slipped into a chair, mentally running through the last few years, playing questionable moments over in his mind. Finally he spoke.

"You've been married for six years and in a building full of investigators, no one ever found out?"

"We were discrete."

"No shit," breathed Brass, completely thrown. Sara slipped from Grissom's hold and began to pace the room, her eyes unfocused, her expression unreadable.

"The Debbie Marlin case," said Brass suddenly, "your confession to Laurie…"

"I was talking about the past, and all the time I had wasted." Grissom's mind wandered back to that case and his horror at seeing his wife's double lying dead on the bathroom floor, her throat sliced open. An involuntary shuddered raced through him and he glanced over at her. Other events began to play through his mind: her near DUI, visiting her at a friend's apartment where she'd gone seeking refuge when the wounds of her past were reopened. The time he'd almost lost her at the mental hospital. His heart froze, his breath was sharp. He yanked himself out of his memories and back to here and now. She was still with him, he hadn't lost her. But what about Allie? Had he lost her instead?


	3. Chapter 3

Dr. Adamson set the last stitch and tied it off. Then he put down his tools and stepped away from the operating table, nodding to the nurse. His job here was done; all that remained was to see if the patient was strong enough to survive. The girl was wheeled out to the ICU as the doctor disrobed and cleaned himself up. He slipped back into his white coat and collected his notes before going to check on Miss Grissom.

Twenty minutes later he walked into the waiting room, looking for her relatives. Inside, it was still; a detective sat by the door, shell-shocked and lost for words. Over by the window a man and woman sat together on the couch. They were leaning into each other, their worry lining their faces. The door clicked shut and the man started, looking up. He gently nudged the woman next to him and they got to their feet.

"I'm Dr. Adamson," said the doctor, stepping forward and holding out his hand. The man took it and they shook.

"I'm Dr. Grissom, and this is my wife Sara," he said. Glancing at his notes, Dr. Adamson said,

"Alexandra is your daughter?"

"Yes," replied Sara, her voice faint and faraway.

"Well, I'm the surgeon who operated on Alexandra. I managed to remove the two bullets from her chest and shoulder- she was remarkably lucky, there wasn't much damage done. However, the beating caused a broken left wrist and cracked ribs, which punctured her right lung. I fixed the tear, but the next twenty-four hours will be critical. An infection right now could be catastrophic. There was some trauma to the organs in the lower abdomen, but nothing very serious. We also think that she sustained one or more blows to the head, which is causing a coma."

"Can we see her?" asked Sara, tiredly.

"Right now she is being processed by a CSI, but after that you can go in. I'll warn you though, she's on a ventilator, is hooked up to a blood transfusion and other IV's, and where the bruising is starting to show, it's very extensive. She looks a mess."

"Thank you," said Grissom, grateful for the truth and not some candy-coated version. "Where is she?"

"Upstairs, down the hall, turn left, third door to the right. If you have any questions, just ask the nurses." He left and Brass, who had remained quiet all this time, spoke up.

"Catherine will come here as soon as she's finished." Without a word, Sara started pacing; her eyes taking on that unfocused look as she tried to maintain control of her emotions and come to terms with what she had just learned. Her daughter had just become one of the victims she tried so hard to help. The thought of Allie being processed and given a case number made Sara feel sick to her stomach. Grissom returned to the window, staring out at nothing and retreating into himself to think. Brass looked at them both, wondering. He was no expert at relationships, but he did know that avoiding an issue and retreating was not going to help. Idly, he wondered if his presence was preventing the couple from talking, they were both extremely private- hell, they'd been married six years and kept it to themselves. Quietly, he excused himself on the pretense of getting coffee.

When the door clicked shut, Sara stopped moving and put her head in her hands. She sank into the nearest chair and wrestled with her emotions, trying to keep her usual calm. But this was her little girl, her Allie who she had promised to look after and protect. A memory floated through her mind.

_A six-year-old Allie sat at the kitchen table, drawing pictures, while Sara was curled on the couch, reading case notes._

"_Mommy, can I go outside and play? Megan got a new sandbox for her birthday and she said I could go play with her." Sara glanced out of the window, then over at her little girl._

"_Not right now honey ok, it raining. Maybe when it dries up a little." Allie frowned, but nodded and went back to her drawing. Sara continued with her reading. A little while later there was a crash of thunder and Sara looked up, knowing Allie was afraid of storms, but her baby was no longer at the table._

"_Allie," she called, "where are you?" There was no answer. Sara got to her feet and checked the two bedrooms and the bathroom. Allie wasn't there. She wasn't hiding in the kitchen/living room area of the tiny apartment either. Sara felt her chest tighten, and she tried the front door. It was unlocked. Stuffing her feet into her shoes, she stepped out into the poring rain and began to look around. When they were home, she always locked the door. Always!  
"Allie," she yelled over the sound of the storm. There was still no answer. Frantically, she searched the stairs leading to the upper and lower levels of the complex. There was no sign. Running out into the open, she sprinted down the street towards the park, one of Allie's favorite haunts. It was empty. Everyone sensible was tucked away indoors, waiting out the rain. Sara continued down the street, calling out and searching every place she could think of. Remembering what Allie had said about Megan getting a sandbox, Sara ran towards the building where her daughter's friend lived. Ground floor, third on the right. She tried the door, but there was no answer. She ran around the back and peered over the balcony. There was the sandbox, but no Allie. Getting desperate, she put a hand to her forehead, racking her brains for other places Allie might have gone. Then she had an idea. The apartment complex had recently been expanded; twelve new buildings had been added, along with a gymnasium and a small park. A park Allie had told her about, after she and Megan had dragged their babysitter over there to investigate. Setting off at a run, Sara tried to dredge up the memory of the plans that had been in her mailbox a few months ago. Turn left at the end of that street. No, right then left. She ran and ran, dodging a speeding car, and a flyer carried by a gust of wind. At last she rounded a corner and came upon the maze of slides, swings and climbing apparatus, all nestled on a bed of sand. It was empty. Letting out a cry of frustration, she walked up to the slide, scuffing sand with her sneakers. There was a faint cry from underneath. Her heart froze and she ducked down to discover her rain drenched, mud-covered baby girl hiding underneath, tears streaming down her face. Sara crawled underneath and pulled Allie into her arms, her own tears leaving hot tracks down her cheeks. _

"_I just wanted to play," sobbed Allie, her small body shivering. Sara picked her up and, holding her tightly against her chest, set off home._

_Later, when Allie was tucked up safely in bed, Sara sat down next to her and asked,_

"_Allie, why did you go out when I told you not to?" Allie looked down, and said in a tiny voice,_

"_I wanted to play in the sand, and Megan wasn't home, so I went to the park."_

"_But don't you think it was a bad thing to do? Especially when I told you to stay home?" Allie nodded and looked up at Sara, her eyes large and frightened._

"_Do you still love me?" Sara's heart twisted._

"_Yes, why?"_

"_Because Tommy said that when he ran away to Michael's house, his mommy and daddy got in a big fight and his daddy left. He said that his daddy doesn't love him anymore and that he didn't want to take care of him ever again." Sara's breath caught in her throat._

"_Oh baby," she said, scooting over on the bed and pulling Allie into a hug, "I will always love you, and I will always, always want to look after you. You're my little Allie and I promise you that I will never leave you." Allie snuggled closer and rested her head against her mother's chest._

"_I love you too mommy," she whispered, her eyes closing, "and I promise I'll never run away again."_

Sara closed her eyes, and tried not to cry.

Grissom stood by the window, staring out into nothing, lost in his own memories.

_Allie was five, and it was her party. She wearing a little yellow sundress and was dancing around the room with four other girls when Grissom arrived. _

"_Sorry I'm late," he said to Sara, "my flight was delayed." She smiled back at him, but before she could answer, there was a cry of delight._

"_Daddy," Allie launched herself across the room and into Grissom's arms. Laughing he picked her up and cuddled her._

"_Hey princess, happy birthday." She grinned at him, and planted a kiss on his cheek._

_Then, all of a sudden she was eleven, and staring as Aurora in the fifth grade production of Sleeping Beauty. Grissom remembered her practicing for weeks, reciting her lines over and over, convinced that she wasn't good enough until she was perfect. On the night of the show, the audience had loved her. _

_Next, she was fifteen and playing a solo piano piece at the school's performing arts showcase. Her music had gripped the audience, stealing their full attention and holding it. Afterwards, they had given her a standing ovation and demanded an encore. _

_Last week at dinner, one of the few times they were able to gather as a family and enjoy each others company, he had been struck by how fast she seemed to have gone from his little girl to a young woman, confident about her place in the world. She smiled as she put the plates on the table, her long chocolaty brown hair falling down her back and framing her face. Grissom watched her as they ate, as she told them all about a project in school, and how she had been training new people at work. She's grown up, he realized, she's not my little Allie anymore. _

He was jerked out of his memories when he heard a stifled sniff from across the room. Looking up he saw Sara hunched in a chair, her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. His heart breaking at the sight of his distressed wife, he crossed the room and gently took her hand, pulling her up into his arms. She buried her face in his shoulder and tried to breathe deeply, calming herself down.

"She'll be ok," he whispered, hoping he was right.

TBC…

Thank you for all the lovely reviews, it's nice to know my work is appreciated. Please continue to let me know what you think. My apologies for the delay in the posting of this and further chapters- college is incredibly busy with the approaching of end of semester and final exams. Only a few more weeks though, and I will have much more time to devote to writing. Chapter four is in the works, and will hopefully be completed today or tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4

Standing outside the door, Brass sipped his coffee. He saw Catherine approaching from down the hallway, kit in one hand, evidence in the other. As she drew level with him, she raised an eyebrow and said,

"I'm a little confused about what's going on here."

"It's a complicated story," he replied, "and I'm sure we're just touching the surface today." When Catherine raised her other eyebrow also, Brass held up a hand in a defensive gesture and said,

"Hey, I just found out. I'm almost as lost as you."

"Well, you gonna share?"

"I think that's up to them," he answered, waving his hand in the general direction of the room behind him and taking a sip from the styrofoam cup he was holding. Catherine nodded, and opened the door. Seeing Sara in Grissom's arms momentarily threw her off track, but she reminded herself that this was apparently reality, and it was about time those two got their act together. Then she frowned, to produce a daughter, they'd have to have been together a while. About eighteen years or so. How could she and the rest of the team have failed to notice it for that long? Confused, she put it out of her mind and entered the room.

"Gil, Sara" she called out softly. They looked up and stepped apart, as though they had been caught doing something they shouldn't. But Catherine couldn't fail to notice that their hands remained clasped as they stood side by side and looked at her, Grissom's eyes dark and unreadable, Sara's red and watery. She continued, "There was no sign of rape or sexual assault, but the tests will have to confirm that. I got quite a bit of evidence, which on first look matches what I got from her room earlier. It looks like she managed to scratch him; there were skin cells under her nails so we might have DNA to go off of." Sara nodded and Grissom murmured,

"Thanks," before they left, heading straight down the hall to the elevator.

Brass turned to Catherine.

"So what did you find at the house?"

"Well, I only processed her room, but I got fibers, blood and hairs from the carpet and the bed, and an earring from the carpet. I think it was torn out during the struggle, there was blood on it and the back was missing. There was a lot of blood on the bed and the wall and there were a couple of partials on the door handle, but they could easily be hers." Brass nodded and sighed.

"I need to question them, but I really don't want to." Catherine shuddered.

"I wouldn't want to either," she replied. "It's bad enough having to go through their house and I only did her room. Warrick had to do the rest." They were quiet for a moment, then Brass said,

"I don't know how they managed to keep this from us, especially from you and me, you know? We're supposedly his best friends and yet he failed to mention that not only is he married to Sara, but they have a kid together?"

"Brass," Catherine was thoughtful, "they're both quiet, private people. I'm not surprised Grissom didn't want to share this with us. Ecklie would love it if he knew that they were involved- imagine what he would have done to them if he'd found out when they were dating. I'm guessing they weren't together for a while after she first moved down here," Brass nodded, "or he could get into serious trouble for even hiring her in the first place. His wife/girlfriend or whatever and the mother of his child just conveniently gets a job at the same lab as him?"

"They weren't involved for the first three years," he admitted, "so they can't claim he brought her down here because they were married, but still, there's going to be hell to pay over this. They'll be lucky to keep their jobs, I reckon." Catherine shrugged,

"They had to know there was a risk of being found out, but you have to give them credit, they did a pretty good job of hiding it. I never guessed, though I always knew they liked each other."

"Same here. It still rattles me that he never found time to tell us though."

"He's Grissom, what can I say." Brass smiled and nodded then walked Catherine out to her car so she could drop her evidence off at the lab before going back to the scene.

"Guess we're pulling a double," she said looking up at the bright sunshine before driving away.

Upstairs Grissom and Sara had quickly located Allie's room. They paused for a moment by the door, taking deep breaths and glancing at each other, wondering what they would find on the other side, before they crossed the threshold, and walked straight into their nightmare.


	5. Chapter 5

Inside there was deafening silence, broken only by the soft, but insistent beeping of the machines and the hissing of the ventilator as it pushed air into Allie's fractured lungs. Their daughter looked tiny and broken lying in the large hospital bed, though in reality she was 5'9". Her skin, where it wasn't mottled by bruises, was so pale it appeared almost transparent. There was a tube running into her nose and another down her throat. A third peaked out from under the blankets, draining fluid from her chest cavity. Her left arm was splinted and IV's snaked away from where they pierced the skin on her right hand. Her eyes were closed.

Sara perched on the edge of the bed, brushing a stray strand of hair from Allie's face. Grissom stood on the other side, the fingers of Allie's left hand tangled with his own. They didn't say anything, just waiting there quietly, taking everything in.

Brass leaned against the door, watching Grissom and Sara with their daughter. He wished he didn't have to disturb them, but he had to do his job. Quietly he entered the room, coughing lightly to let them know he was there. Grissom looked up and shook his head slightly.

"Gil, I have to," said Brass, sighing. "You have no idea how much I don't want to, but we need answers, somewhere to start looking." Sara put her hand on Grissom's arm and looked up at him.

"Let's just get it over with," she murmured quietly. Grissom nodded and looked around.

"Not here though," he said firmly.

"That's fine," replied Brass, "How about the cafeteria?" Sara nodded, letting go of Allie's hand.

Down in the café it was quiet, so they settled into a table in the corner and Brass pulled out his notebook. Sara winced at the sight of it, but squared her shoulders and looked Brass in the eye.

"What do you want to know?" she asked.

"Let's start with her full name, date of birth, etc." With a deep sigh Sara began,

"Alexandra Michaela Grissom, eighteen years old, born June seventeenth, 1991 in Boston Massachusetts."

"Where does she go to school? What is her typical week like?"

"She's a junior at UNLV, majoring in anthropology. She goes to school Tuesday and Thursday nights from three to ten and Wednesday mornings from seven till twelve. She works during the week from five am till one thirty except Wednesdays, which are two thirty to eleven. And this week she traded her Thursday shift with someone for Sunday night."

"Any clubs, activities she's part of?"

"Friday afternoons she goes to the old sports park behind the new stadium from three until six. There's a group of about twenty-five that does historical reenactments from Medieval Europe. Sword fighting, archery, jousting, dressing up in armor, that sort of thing."

"Anything else?"

"After that she plays piano at Michael's, the restaurant on Smith Road from seven to ten thirty. They pay her under the table, but she does it because it's a chance to play for people, not for the money. Saturday mornings she teaches piano from seven to ten. Every third Saturday she volunteers at the animal shelter from noon until five. After that I don't know what she does. It's her time, so I'd guess she usually hangs out with her boyfriend and their friends. Sundays are pretty much the same, unless one or both of us is off work, in which case it's family time. As you can imagine, we don't see very much of her anymore, with all the hours that we all work." Brass nodded sympathetically. He knew all to well what it was like when children grew up.

"Tell me about her boyfriend."

"His name is Nathan Moss, he's nineteen, goes to the same school and I think he's majoring in architecture, though I'm not sure. Anyway, they've been together for just over two years."

"Friends?"

"Her best friend is Isabella Mierke, but she goes by Izzie. She's nineteen and is majoring in art at UNLV. Izzie and Allie have known each other since eighth grade. Her other friends I don't really know. You'd have to ask Izzie and Nathan."

"Can you think of anyone who would have a reason to hate her, or want to kill her?" At this Sara looked away, unable to continue. His fingertips pressed together and his gaze fixed on the table, Grissom spoke instead.

"No. She's intelligent, kind and funny. Her friends love her and she's never said anything about having problems with someone." Sara stood and left the table, Grissom watched her leave the room before shifting his gaze to the detective in front of him.

"I don't know Jim, unless it was random. But I don't believe any of her friends would have done it, and I know Nathan didn't. He loves her. He's a good kid."

"What about her work?"

"She's a supervisor at Craft House over on Ellis Avenue. She's been working there since she was sixteen and they promoted her almost a year ago. I think she said something about it upsetting some people who'd been there a long time, but it was ages ago. It seems a little odd to wait this long if it was one of them." Brass nodded but didn't say anything. Instead he continue with his questions, intent on finding out all he could about Allie Grissom.

Upstairs Sara walked back into Allie's room and settled herself in a chair by the bed. There she could keep watch on her child and avoid the interrogation going on downstairs. She didn't want to think about her daughter as just another number in the system, another case with evidence and police reports, medical charts and questions. She didn't want to think of Allie as a victim. But seeing her lying on the bed before her, Sara couldn't help but see her as just that. For years she had tried her hardest to protect her child from the evils of the world, arming her with the knowledge and tools to keep herself safe but it seemed to Sara that in the end, she had failed. Here was Allie, unconscious and broken in the hospital, with the perpetrator out there somewhere, roaming the streets and looking for his next victim. Suddenly Sara was filled with the need to do something, anything to help catch the guy. It was unacceptable that he be allowed to get away with this, and the sooner he was behind bars where he belonged, then the sooner Allie was safe and the sooner Sara could relax. She stood up and gazed down at her child feeling torn in two, not wanting to leave, and at the same time needing to. Feeling she was betraying Allie, Sara bent down and kissed her forehead, then walked out the door and headed towards the parking lot.


	6. Chapter 6

Grissom and Brass were walking down the hall back to Allie's room in search of Sara when they heard a scuffle not far away. Rounding a corner they discovered two teenagers and a nurse standing and yelling at each other outside Allie's room.

"What's going on here?" asked Brass.

"These two were trying to sneak in, but they're not family of the patient," snapped the nurse. Grissom raised an eyebrow.

"They're not family, they can't go in," the nurse repeated stubbornly. The girl rolled her eyes and glared at the nurse.

"In that case," she said, "we're her cousins."

"Immediate family only."  
"She meant brother and sister," the boy joined in, grabbing the girl by the arm and sliding past Grissom into the room.

"Now see here," began the nurse, stepping forward. Brass stopped her.

"I'll take care of it," he said with finality. The nurse gave him a dirty look, then walked off. Brass looked at Grissom, but he had already followed the teenagers into Allie's room. Inside Brass surveyed the two newcomers. The girl was tiny and all of about five foot three with pale blonde hair dripping down her back, a dozen different colored streaks flowing through it. She was dressed in layers, leggings under a miniskirt covered in paint which Brass supposed was meant to be artistic. Her feet were encased in boots and over a black tank top, she was wearing a ripped T-shirt and a men's button down shirt, the buttons undone. On anyone else it would have looked hideous, but this girl somehow managed to pull it off. The boy on the other hand, at least six feet tall, was clean-shaven and clothed in baggy jeans and a shirt bearing the emblem of some sort of rock band. His hair at least, was all one color- black and his eyes, a deep green, were filled with worry. Brass sized them up before he spoke.

"Who are you two?" The girl shifted her gaze from Allie to him.

"I'm Izzie and this is Nathan," she said, her voice soft, her eyes full of tears.

"Well Izzie and Nathan, I'm detective Jim Brass, and I need to ask you some questions. Would you mind coming down to the station with me?" Izzie glared at him.

"We didn't do this," she snapped.

"I didn't say you did," he replied, "I just want to clear you as suspects and see if you can tell me anything that might help us catch the guy that did this."

"We'll meet you there," said Nathan, speaking for the first time since entering the room. "My car is in the parking lot. If you'd be kind enough to give me directions?"

Grissom wandered out of the room, wondering where Sara was. He tried her cell phone, but she didn't answer. Frowning he walked towards the exit, wondering if she had stepped outside for some fresh air. As he passed the front desk he asked the receptionist if she had seen anyone matching Sara's description.

"Sure, she ran out of her a while ago. Seemed in a hurry to get somewhere." Grissom walked out to where he had parked the car earlier and found it wasn't there. He put his hand in his jacket pocket, already knowing the keys were not there. He had dropped them in the waiting room and Sara had picked them up and pocketed them for him. He pulled out his phone and dialed Brass,

"I need to get back to the lab right now!"

As they pulled up outside the building, Grissom scanned the parking lot, looking for the Denali. He didn't see it, but it could be around the other side of the building. Getting out of the car, he headed inside and tried Sara's cell again as he began to search for her. The lab was fairly quiet though.

"She was here," said Hodges, "but I told her to leave. She was crowding me."

"When did she leave?"

"Not long ago."

"Where did she go?"

"How should I know?" Grissom left, getting in his own car and driving towards his house. He pulled up outside and walked quickly towards the front door, where Sara was yelling at Warrick and the cop who were both preventing her from entering.

"I need to help you look… dammit this is my house… my daughter… let me in." Grissom heard snatches of the conversation as he approached.

"Sara," he called out. She kept yelling. "Sara," he said again. She looked at him. "We need to let them do their job." His voice was quiet as he took her by the arm and pulled her gently away from the building and back towards the car. Her body was stiff and tense, her expression defiant. "Sara, we can't go in the house, you know that. We have to let them do their job or we'll invalidate any evidence we find." Sara glared at him and turned her back, staring at the ground. "Sara," Grissom's voice was quieter, "talk to me honey. What's going on?" She spun around and stared at him, her eyes full of tears.

"I failed," she murmured.

"What?' he asked, confused.

"I promised I'd keep her safe," she paused and swept a hand through her hair, pulling it back from her face, "When she was a baby I promised her I'd never let anything happen to her and I failed."

"No you didn't." said Grissom.

"Griss, she's lying unconscious in hospital with two bullet holes in her. I don't call that safe." He gazed at her, and put his hand on her shoulder, willing her to calm down.

"You made sure she learned self-defense, how to protect herself. Brass said she fought back. If she hadn't known how, then she might have been raped, or worse, dead. So don't think for a moment that any of this is your fault." He pulled her into a hug, holding her right there in their driveway in front of the cops and the CSI's who were now standing on the doorstep. When she pulled away and wiped her eyes, Grissom saw Catherine approaching. He turned to her, while Sara composed herself.

"Hey guys," said Catherine, her voice heavy. She gestured toward the house, "we're done here for now, but we can't release the scene yet." Grissom nodded. Catherine looked at him and continued,

"I know it's not home, but I have a spare room. You're welcome to it if you want. I can go inside and get some things from your room if you need them."

"Sara?' Grissom looked at her. She nodded, then frowned.

"Catherine, what happened to the cats?"

"Cats?"

"Indigo and Tigga. They would have been in Allie's room with her."  
"I didn't see either of them the whole time I was in there."

"We need to find them, they'll be freaked out."

"Ok, I'll go back in and look, but what do I do with them when I find them?" Sara thought for a moment.

"There's a transport cage in the garage. It's on the second shelf set by the far wall when you walk in and there's a fish tank in her room." Catherine nodded.

"I'll get them," she promised, before heading back towards the house. She spoke to Warrick at the door for a moment, and then the two of them disappeared back inside. A little while later she emerged with a bag slung over her shoulder and the fish bowl in her hands. Warrick was beside her, carrying their kits and the cage with two very scared kitties hunched up in the corner.

"You can take them to my house. Lindsey will love it."

"Thanks Catherine," said Sara. Her teammate nodded and pulled her keys from her pocket. She pulled one off the ring and handed it to Grissom.

"I'll find the spare when I get home. But until then you two should go and get some rest. I know you probably want to get back to the hospital, but I think you should at least take a nap first. It's been a long night and you need to stay strong."

"Yes mom," said Sara, a slight smile appearing on her lips for the first time in hours.

"Your welcome honey," retorted Catherine, also smiling. "Second door on the left as you go down the hall, bathroom is next door. Help yourselves to food, whatever. Call me if you need anything."

"Thanks," said Grissom. Sara echoed him. They put the cats and the bag of clothes Catherine had gathered into the back of Grissom's car and then drove away, the fish bowl on Sara's lap as she sat in the passenger seat. Catherine was driving the extra Denali back to the lab.

Wrapped in a towel, her hair dripping down her back Sara walked into the spare room and perched on the edge of the bed next to Griss who was attempting to coax Indigo out of the cage. The cat stubbornly refused. Sighing, Grissom gave up and turned to Sara, handing her the pair of pajamas he had fished out of the bag. She unwrapped the towel and pulled them on, then rubbed her hair dry. Grissom, already showered and ready for bed, pulled back the blankets and lay down. Sara scooped Indigo out of the box and settled her on the bed next to Tigga, then crawled in next to Grissom. She snuggled up close and closed her eyes when he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly to him. They lay still, trying to settle into sleep, but plagued by worries and the threat of the nightmares that were inherent to the job and now carried an added terror.

"Griss," murmured Sara, her voice barley a whisper, "do you think she'll be ok?" Grissom tightened his arms around his wife, trying to take away some of her pain and reassure her, but his silence rang throughout the room, full of the unknown.


	7. Chapter 7

Ecklie strode into Grissom's office, purpose in his step. Grissom looked up from his paper work, an intended distraction that wasn't really working.

"What can I do for you Conrad?" he asked.

"This isn't going to go away Grissom."

"What isn't?"

"This. You, Sidle, the girl. There's going to be an investigation."

"I expected that much," replied Grissom, putting down his pen and absently rubbing his temple, "but Sara and I did nothing wrong. We are merely two very private people who decided to keep our non-work lives private. Our daughter's attack unfortunately brought our relationship to light, but that doesn't mean that we cannot continue to go on as we have in the past. Sara and I have been together for the last seven years, tell me if you can recall a single work-related incident in that time frame that could be deemed unprofessional."

"Grissom, I'm not the bad guy here, I'm just warning you of what is to come. I certainly don't have any wish to see you or Sidle suffer, you are both assets to the lab."

"Grissom," said Grissom.

"What?"

"Sara's name is Sara Sidle-Grissom."

"Ok, well I just wanted to let you know. I'll keep you informed." Ecklie strode out and Grissom sat back in his chair with a sigh. In the twelve days since the attack Catherine and Warrick had identified the perpetrator as Erik Lyle, a man Sara had put away for assault, possession and intent to sell illegal drugs, and accessory to murder not long after her arrival in Vegas. He had been released a while back, and had come looking for the CSI responsible for his stay in jail. Greg had matched his name to the old case, and since then PD had been looking for him. Meanwhile, Allie still lay in ICU, comatose and unresponsive. Her condition had improved after the first couple of days, but then she had developed an infection, which quickly led to a collapsed lung and other complications. It had been touch and go for about a week, but she had finally started to improve again in the last few days. Only yesterday had her breathing tube been removed, though the other IV's and tubes remained in place. Grissom and Sara had returned to work to keep busy, but Grissom could see that even though she fought to keep herself together in front of the others, Sara was ripping herself apart on the inside, placing the blame solely on her shoulders. He understood her logic, she had put the guy away in the first place and then he had been released and come after her child in retaliation, but he was frustrated that he could do nothing to ease her pain and help her let it go. Looking at his watch he noted that shift was almost over and stood; leaving his paperwork on the desk he headed over to visit Brass.

The detective was in his office when Grissom arrived and upon seeing his friend, promptly pulled out two glasses and a bottle of scotch. They sat for a while in silence, each lost in their own thoughts as they drank. Then Brass looked across the desk at the nightshift supervisor and spoke.

"How are you coping?" he asked, his voice gentle and genuine. Grissom sighed and took his time answering.

"I'm ok. But I'm worried about Sara. I don't know how to help her."

"I don't know what to tell you," said Brass honestly, "relationships are not my strong point." Grissom was silent, thinking.

"You could ask Catherine. She's a mother, she might be able to offer you some advice."

Grissom nodded and finished his drink. They lapsed into silence once more, until Grissom left for his office once again. Brass watched him leave, knowing that he was lying about being fine, that on the inside this was eating him up just as much as it was Sara. If only Allie would wake up, then maybe things would settle down a little.

Back in his office Grissom collected his briefcase and a few other odds and ends, then headed to the locker room. Sara was already there, putting on her coat and removing her purse from her locker. On the inside of the door were pictures of Allie that Sara had claimed were of her niece until the truth had come out. The first was when Allie was a little girl, five or six, and playing in the sand at the beach. The second was of a tall, awkward thirteen-year-old, sitting behind the piano with a look of total concentration on her face and a smile gracing her lips. The third was the most recent, taken only a few months ago and showed their daughter in a floor length black dress with a low neckline, her hair curling around her face and cascading down her back, eyes sparkling and that same infectious smile touching her lips. It had been taken just before Nathan arrived to take her out to a dance, an evening she had later described as magical. Finally there was a new picture, one Sara had added only last week, after the truth had come out. It showed the three of them in a family portrait they had had taken last winter and had sent to his mother as a Christmas gift. They were all dressed in jeans and black shirts, matching perfectly, the picture of a happy family. Grissom smiled at the memory of Allie and the photographer cracking bad jokes, but the smile slipped off his face when Sara slammed her locker door shut and turned. She started slightly at his presence behind her, evidently she had been lost in thought, because normally she would have known he was there, even without him making a sound. He reached for her, pulling her gently against him and stroking her hair, trying to make the tension leave her body.

"Let's go home," he murmured softly into her ear. She didn't protest, argue that they should go to the hospital and check on Allie. She just followed him weakly out of the door.

Hours later the sound of Grissom's cell phone ringing shattered the silence of their bedroom. He reached out blindly, groping on the bedside cabinet until he found the offensive object.

"Grissom," he answered, the exhaustion in his voice evident. As he listened Sara buried her head deeper into his chest and murmured something he couldn't hear. While he listened he wrapped an arm around her, blinking to clear his head. "Thanks, we'll be right there." He hung up the phone and took a deep breath.

"Griss," Sara's voice was just as worn as his own, "I don't care how bad it is, we are not going to work. They'll just have to manage without us." Grissom wrapped both arms around her, trying to wake her up gently.

"It wasn't work honey, it was the hospital. Allie's waking up." Sara sat up, instantly awake.

"Why didn't you say so? Let's go." She leapt out of bed and scrambled across the room to the closet, grabbing the first pair of underwear she could find and yanking them on.

Two minutes later they were on their way and twenty-five minutes later they were standing in the hallway talking to the doctor.

"She's not fully awake yet, she's still very disorientated and drugged from the pain medication, but she was responsive a little while ago. We'll have to do extensive tests later to see if there is any lasting damage." The doctor stopped talking as his pager went off. He checked it, then excused himself, promising to be back later to check on Allie and answer any questions. Grissom and Sara entered Allie's room to find a nurse they hadn't met before checking on their daughter's condition. She looked up and smiled at them.

"Mom and dad?" she asked. Grissom nodded. "She was awake about half an hour ago, very disorientated and unsure, but she did ask for you both. She's sleeping now, but she'll probably wake up again soon."

"Does she remember what happened?" asked Grissom.

"We don't know yet. She seemed very confused about where she was and why, but that's normal. When she wakes up properly and is alert we'll be able to question and examine her to see if she can tell us anything." Sara nodded and thanked the nurse, who smiled and left, her work done. They stepped up to the bed, Sara taking Allie's hand in her own and murmuring softly to her. Grissom surveyed the machines and other hospital equipment, searching for differences that could give him even the tiniest clue abut Allie's health. Then he turned his attention to his daughter. The breathing tube that had been removed allowed him to see her face much more clearly, and he was glad of it. The ventilator, although lifesaving, had scared him- his child could not breathe for herself! The cuts of her arms and face had all but completely healed and her skin, though still unnaturally pale, was warmer with more color, taking away the impression that she was knocking on death's door. Suppressing a yawn, he looked sideways at his wife, seeing the exhaustion in every bone of her body though knowing she would never admit to it and much less give in to it. He touched her arm and she looked up at him, a ghost of a smile on her lips. He left the room for a few minutes and returned with two cups of coffee, two apples and two sandwiches that looked suspiciously like they were made of plastic. They settled into chairs by the bed and ate, the food and drink reviving them a little. An hour passed but Allie didn't stir. Grissom dozed off in the chair and awoke a short time later to find Sara sleeping lightly next to him. He glanced over at Allie's bed and gasped when he saw her hand twitch. He stood and walked over to her side in time to see her take a deep breath before her eyes fluttered.

"Sara," he whispered in his wife's ear, shaking her lightly. She was awake in an instant. He pointed to the bed and she was by his side in a second, watching as Allie shifted very slightly and fluttered her eyes again. Sara reached out and smoothed back the girls' hair.

"Allie," she said quietly, "Allie honey, wake up." Grissom took Sara's free hand in his and squeezed it. He opened his mouth to say something but the words died on his lips when Allie's eyes blinked open and she stared up at them. She seemed unable to focus, and turned her gaze to Sara who was nearest. Squinting at her mother, she croaked,

"Mom?"

"I'm here baby," Sara let go of Grissom to grasp Allie's hand. Grissom shifted around to the other side of the bed so that he could take Allie's other hand. Allie's eyes fell on his.

"Daddy?"

"I'm here monkey." A smile spread across Allie's face at the use of her childhood nickname, but it was quickly replaced by a frown.

"Where am I? What's going on?" Grissom and Sara's eyes met. If she didn't know, how were they supposed to tell her?


	8. Chapter 8

Exhausted, Allie leaned back into her pillows and closed her eyes. The rush of doctors and nurses who had steadily streamed in and out of her room since she had woken had finally ended, leaving her with just her parents for company. They were close by, her father seated in a chair on the left side of the bed, her mother leaning against the wall opposite her.

"Are you ok?" asked Sara, concern evident in her voice.

"Yeah," sighed Allie, her voice worn with weariness, "it's just a lot to take in all at once." Her mother had explained the events that had led to her stay in the hospital just before the doctors had come barging in; wanting to know if she could feel this touch, squeeze this hand, multiply two by three, how old was she, what year was it and so on until Allie thought she might scream. They had determined that there was no apparent lasting damage, and that she should make a full recovery.

"Did either of you call Nathan," she asked quietly, knowing that her boyfriend would want to know she was awake. She still struggled with the idea that she had been unconscious for thirteen days- but knew it was possible. She had been comatose before. It was weird to know that she would have a two week gap in her memory. Before, when she had been hospitalized after a car crash that had almost killed her and her mother, she had been six. All the memories she had of that time were of the crash and the hospital, but most of those were scratchy. Even her recovery after she left the hospital was patchy. "No, we didn't," said Grissom, rising from his chair. "But I'll go and do it now, I want to get something to eat anyway." He walked across to the bed and kissed Allie on the forehead, before leaving. As he walked through the doorway, Allie called out to him.

"Daddy."

"Yes monkey?" She smiled at him, and he grinned back.

"Can you bring me something to eat? I'm starved." He nodded and left. Allie turned to look at her mother, considering her. Sara had barley said a word since she had revealed the truth about what had happened. Sara was leaning against the wall opposite the bed. Her eyes were half closed and her exhaustion was apparent in her face and body. She seemed unwilling to look at her daughter.

"Mom, what's wrong?" asked Allie, confusion in her voice and thoughts.

"Nothing sweetie, I'm just tired is all. It's been a difficult couple of weeks." Allie frowned. Something was eating her mother she knew, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Deciding not to pursue it at that moment, because she was too exhausted to dig it out of her, Allie raised her arm slightly and held out her hand towards her mother. Sara walked forward and crawled up onto the bed next to her daughter. She carefully wrapped Allie in her arms and, stroking her little girls' hair, drifted off to sleep.

Allie talked excitedly to her mother as they climbed into the ancient Toyota Camry and headed for home. From the back seat, a hyper, six-year-old Allie told her mother all about her day. Sara, in the drivers seat, listened with a smile on her face as she drove. She loved picking up her little girl after a long shift and listening to her sweet voice chatter away. They were almost at the freeway when the rain started, thundering down in heavy sheets, making the road slippery. Sara grimaced at the conditions, but kept driving. There was nowhere close by that they could stop for shelter, and she didn't want to be on the side of the road in this area. Carefully she pulled onto the freeway, sighing when the rain eased up a little. They were less than a mile from their exit when suddenly Allie cried out,

"_Mommy!" Sara glanced at her in the rearview mirror. Allie was pointing out the window. Sara glanced to her left and saw a huge, gray semi-truck hurtling over the center divide and towards their car. Trying to clear the oncoming vehicle, she floored the Camry, but too late. The semi slammed into the rear of the car, sending it flying through the air. It flipped across three lanes of traffic, the hard shoulder and over the barrier to tumble down the embankment on the other side. Sara's screams echoed through the vehicle, Allie was silent, frozen in terror. The car finally came to a halt on its side, stopping suddenly when it met an old oak tree in its path. Sara hung limply in her seat, held in place only by her safety-belt. Allie lay still in her car seat, her face pressed into the ground where the window had shattered away. The rain fell harder, pouring into the car through smashed windows and soaking both occupants. Up above, on the freeway the semi had come to a stop, several hundred yards down the road. The driver was passed out drunk in the front seat._

Allie woke with a start, the dream fresh in her mind. Next to her on the bed, her mother stirred.

"Allie, you ok baby?" she murmured.

"Yeah," lied Allie, shaken. The dream was real. She settled back in her mother's arms, tired but comfortable. She felt safe with her mom there to look after her.


	9. Chapter 9

Allie lay awake, gazing at the ceiling. She was bored. It was the middle of the night, so her parents were at work, and there was no one else around to talk to. Every time she tried to sleep nightmares would wake her and then she'd spend what felt like eternity trying to drift off again. She had tried counting sheep, listening to music on the ipod that Nathan had left with her and reading. Nothing was working. She was tired, sore and confused. Why in the world would someone decide to get back at her mother by shooting her? And how in the hell had they even discovered Sara had a daughter to shoot? It had been the best-kept secret in Vegas until a couple of weeks ago, according to her father. Allie replayed the events in her mind. She recalled all too clearly the attack now that she was fully awake and thinking clearly. Erik Lyle, that was his name. The man who invaded her dreams and was the reason she was lying here. _Still, _she reasoned,_ there's nothing I can do about it. I'm here and that isn't going to change so I might as well make the best of it. _What bothered her the most was the fact that she was now behind in her school work, although she had been assured that her professors had been notified and would allow her to make up the work she had missed. She wondered what had become of her seasonal sets at work. They should have been completed a week ago in preparation for the upcoming holidays. _Oh quit worrying. You aren't the only person capable of doing sets. Someone will have taken care of it._ She tried to relax but found she was wound tighter than a spring. _ If only I could get to a piano,_ she thought. Her fingers were almost aching for the cool touch of the keys beneath them; her heart yearned for the thrill of the music soaring through the air. _But I have this blasted cast on! How long is it going to be before I get it off and can play again? Damn that man, why couldn't be break my leg instead. He had to get my wrist, inconsiderate bastard. _She laughed at that thought. Mr. Lyle surely hadn't been thinking about her when he'd barged into her home, beaten her to a pulp and proceeded to put two bullet holes in her chest. He'd been thinking about revenge, getting even with Sara Sidle- Grissom and repaying her for the nice prison stay he'd had. _Well he may have gotten his revenge, but he's going to be locked away for a long, long time because of it._ It was the knowledge that he wouldn't be getting out to come after her again that kept Allie in relatively good spirits. Wondering what to do she switched on the television and watched a rerun of house until her eyes ached from staring at the tiny screen. Switching it off she shifted and pulled the blankets higher up the bed. She closed her eyes and resolutely began counting sheep as they hoped over an imaginary fence to the greener pasture on the other side. One, Two, Three…

Ecklie stood at Grissom's desk, towering over her father who was seated in his chair, reviewing reports.

"_You violated lab policies Grissom. I'll have you this time. It's you or Sidle, and you'd better decide before I make the decision for you," he leered threateningly at the nightshift supervisor, a nasty grin spread across his face. There was no doubt that he was thinking this was his chance to get rid of the loose cannon that he considered Sidle to be. Left up to Ecklie Allie's mother would be gone from the lab in a heartbeat and there would be nothing anyone could do about it. The pained expression on Grissom's face said it all. He knew there was nothing he could do. It was either him, or his wife._

_Erik Lyle had tied Allie to a chair. He slammed a fist into her stomach, making her retch and double over as much as was possible given the restraints around her. Allie spat on the ground at his feet and fought to get free of her bonds. It was no use, she was tied tightly. Lyle laughed and stepped back, vanishing into the darkness for a moment, before reappearing with Allies mother in his grasp. Sara fought for her life, kicking and lashing out in every attempt to get to her child. Lyle's face was grim. A solid punch to Sara's temple put her out like a light and she slumped to the ground, unconscious. Lyle kicked her repeatedly, while Allie screamed at him to stop. She put every ounce of effort she had left in her into breaking free of her ties, but she was trapped. Lyle pulled a gun from his belt and aimed it at Allie._

"_Shut up bitch," he snarled._

_Shaking, Allie stared down the barrel for the second time, then watched in horror as Lyle moved the gun and sank three rounds into her mother's chest. Allie saw the life drain from Sara's body, and imagined her spirit being transported away to another realm. She opened her mouth in a silent cry as Lyle turned back to her and, laughing, squeezed the trigger again. Allie saw the bullet leave the gun in slow motion, zooming toward her with deadly accuracy. She tried to move, to pull herself out of the way but it was no use. Any second now and that bullet was going to slam right into her, ending her life too._

Allie screamed and sat bolt upright, drenched in a cold sweat. Pain radiated through her body and she wept silent tears. A nurse rushed in as Allie took deep, calming breaths and settled back against her pillows.

"Are you ok?" asked the nurse.

"Fine," wheezed Allie, her breath short from fright. "Just a nightmare. Having a lot of those recently."

"Well, if you're sure…" the nurse wandered out, leaving Allie to deal with her demons alone.


	10. Chapter 10

Allie sat impatiently in the wheelchair as an orderly pushed her through the crowded halls of the hospital. Today was the day; freedom was here at last. Since she had woken up eight days ago she had been wishing for and dreading this moment. She longed for the comfort of home, but was well aware that she had been safe in the hospital, and that by leaving she was reentering the dangerous world that had put her there in the first place. _It's not dangerous really, _she tried to rationalize with herself, _honestly, it's perfectly safe. There are relatively few wacko's like Erik Lyle and the chances of it happening again are slim to nothing. I'll be fine, no one else is out to get me, I can just slip back into life and get on with my shit. _She nodded to herself, shaking off any lingering doubt that leaving the hospital was not a wise idea and looked toward the doors ahead of her. Her father was waiting outside with the car. Allie thanked the orderly for the ride and slipped into the passenger seat.

"Jeez, you'd think I can't walk or something," she mumbled. Grissom laughed. Allie grinned at him, and fastened her seatbelt. The drive home was quiet, both occupants of the vehicle lost in their own thoughts. When they pulled up to the house Allie sucked in a deep breath and stared at the front door. Uneasily she got out and walked towards her home, trying to shake off the feelings of trepidation. Opening the door cautiously as though she expected someone to leap out and get her, she peered inside and then stepped over the threshold. She walked carefully, but deliberately down the hallway towards the kitchen where her mother was making lunch.

"Hi," she said. Sara looked up.

"Hi honey," she smiled, walking over to give Allie a hug. Allie returned the hug, holding on tightly and trying to steady her heart and emotions. Letting go she looked around, taking in her surroundings. The room looked the same except for the calendar on the wall and a few new notes stuck to the refrigerator. It left her with a strange feeling, life had gone on without her presence to add to it. Frowning she looked around and shook herself mentally. Of course life had gone on. Just because she'd been in a coma didn't mean that life for everyone else had come to an end.

"Lunch'll be ready in about five minutes," said Sara, wrapping her arms around her husband and giving him a soft kiss. Grissom ran a hand down her back and smiled at her, kissing her back.

"I'll be back in a minute," murmured Allie. She wandered down the hall to her room, pausing by the slightly open door. She put her hand on the handle and pushed it open, looking around. The wall had been repaired and repainted. Her things had been put back into their proper places and the bed linen was new, a soft lilac with black and white cameras splashed across the fabric. She smiled, that had to be her dad's doing. Entering the room she took in every detail and bit her lip thoughtfully. Uneasiness swept across her and she froze in the middle of the room, her breath catching in her throat. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, willing herself not to panic. When her heart rate slowed and the gripping fear subsided she reached out and ran her fingertips across the bed. The last time she was here she had been attacked, thoroughly beaten and shot. Now she was back again, trying to pick up the pieces. _I have two choices_ she told herself sternly, _I can be terrified and let this disable me, or I can learn from this, become a stronger person and move on._ Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of an old, slightly worn photo album sitting on her desk. She had taken it out to find a picture for Nathan the day before the attack. She picked it up and then wandered back over to the bed. Carefully, so as not to irritate her still healing ribs, she sat down and began to flick through the pages. They were filled with shots of her as a small child. Midway through the book though were pictures from the accident. The wreckage of the car, the semi that had slammed into them, a shot of Allie in a coma, deathly pale and covered in wires and tubes. Then there were pictures of her recovery; her in a wheel chair, on crutches, at physical therapy as she learned to walk again. The last photo in the book was taken the day she finally shed her crutches, and walked shakily across the room into her mothers' arms._ I survived then, and I can survive now_ she told herself firmly_ I will not let this guy get to me. I won't._ There was a knock at the door. Shivering slightly, Allie looked up and smiled.

"Hey daddy," she said.

"Dinner's ready," he told her. She stood, set the book on the bed and walked over to give him a hug.

"I'm glad you're home monkey," he whispered in her ear as he held her tightly.

"Me too. That damn hospital was driving me nuts." Grissom laughed and took her hand, leading her down the hallway to the kitchen. They settled at the table and began to eat. It was reassuringly normal for all of them after the chaos and confusion of the last few weeks. Taking a sip of her drink, Allie thought to herself _here's to family, and the ability to get back up and on your feet when you're knocked down._


	11. Chapter 11

Two loud bangs echoed throughout the room, the sound ricocheting off the walls. The bullets zoomed through the air and thudded into her chest, one after another. Allie screamed and sat bolt upright for the third time in as many hours, the image of Erik Lyles' face imprinted in her mind's eye.

"Damn it," she cursed, slamming her good fist into the mattress. She sprang out of bed and stalked out into the hallway, venting to the walls as she moved. Muttering things about evil men who caused nightmares she stomped into the kitchen and snatched a glass out of the cabinet, stuffing it under the faucet and turning on the cool stream of water. She swallowed thirstily and glared out of the window, into the dark night. Enough was enough. Every night in the hospital and now for four straight days at home she had dreamed of the attack. She bitterly wished there was some way to get her mind off what had happened and to banish it from her memory forever. Unsettled, she yanked on jeans and a sweatshirt and shoved her feet into a pair of vans. She grabbed her car keys and wallet and headed for the garage. She waited until she was out of the residential area before cranking the stereo up and letting the music wash over her, calming her soul. She pulled onto Interstate 15 and just drove, letting her mind run freely from thought to thought, emotion to emotion. Half an hour later she was sufficiently calm enough to turn around and head back, but instead of going home she drove to the CSI lab, wanting to see her parents. After obtaining a visitors badge she wandered down a hallway, looking for her dad's office. He would know what to do.

In the back of Sara's mind an image that had haunted her for weeks now danced around, taunting her. Erik Lyle was holding Allie at gunpoint, laughing. With an angry cry she slammed her magnifying glass down on the counter and glared at the evidence in front of her. She was getting absolutely nowhere.

"I see you're doing as well as I am," said a voice quietly from the doorway. Sara looked up, surprised.

"Allie, what are you doing here?" Allie shrugged.

"Couldn't sleep. Went for a drive, then came here. I was looking for dad, but he wasn't where the receptionist said he would be." Sara nodded.

"He just left for a scene. A body with bugs."

"Gross."

"Yes, but you know how he is. What time is it?"

"4:15."

"If I take my lunch do you want to come with me to get something to eat?"

"Sure. I'm not hungry though. But coffee would be nice."

"Let me just put all this away then, and we can go." Sara quickly packed up her evidence and locked it away, then led Allie down the hallway to the locker room, where she retrieved her purse before heading back through the hallways to the parking lot. On the way there they ran into Catherine.

"Hey Sara," said the blonde, looking up from the file, "have you seen Grissom?"

"He left about half an hour ago. A body with bugs. Catherine, this is my daughter Alexandra."

"Hi, nice to finally meet you," said Catherine.

"Likewise," replied Allie, "I've heard all about you over the years." Catherine smiled.

"We're going to get something to eat," said Sara, "If I hear from Griss I'll tell him you're looking for him."

"Thanks, see you later. It was nice to meet you Alexandra."

Outside it was cold, the desert night refreshing after the intense heat the day could bring, even in winter. They climbed into Allie's Escape and drove to a nearby 24 hour diner that the CSI's frequented. Allie ordered a coffee, and Sara asked for orange juice and a meatless breakfast burrito. They sat in a quiet corner and waited for their order to come to them.

"So why couldn't you sleep?" asked Sara.

"Nightmares. Every time I fall asleep I see it all over again."

"Every time you try and sleep?"

"Yeah. Every night in the hospital, and every night since I got home. Same dream every time; him standing across the room from me, laughing and pulling the trigger. I wake up as the bullets hit me. I dreamed he had you too." Sara was silent for a while, angry at the man who had done this to her child. Allie watched her mother, frowning. Sara had been quiet, withdrawn almost and seemingly lost in her thoughts recently. Allie wished she could put her finger on what the problem was, beyond the obvious. "So what's the story with you? Why can't you concentrate at work?"

"I'm fine," Sara tried to brush off her daughter's concern.

"Like hell you are," said Allie calmly, "I saw you in the layout room. You couldn't even focus. What's going on?" Sara locked gazes with Allie, imploring her to give it up. But Allie wouldn't, she was worried.

"I keep going over and over what I think happened. I want to kill that man for what he did to you. It makes me so angry to think about it that I can't even focus on something right in front of my nose, let alone find answers from tiny clues."

"They got him. He's in jail. He'll stay there."

"But he almost killed you. Spending the rest of his life in jail isn't enough punishment. I'm starting to wonder whether there is any point to what I'm doing. Catching bad guys and putting them away doesn't change what they've done. Erik Lyle being in jail doesn't change the fact that I could have lost you. And it doesn't make it any less my fault."

"Your fault? Is that what all this is about? You spacing out? Being angry? Upset? You think this is your fault"

Reluctantly Sara nodded.

"Mom, this has nothing to do with you. How could you possibly blame yourself?"

"I put him away the first time. He came after you because he wanted to get back at me. If I hadn't done my job right, then none of this would have happened."

"And if you didn't do your job right there would be a lot of other bad people out on the streets doing more harm to more people. We all have choices to make. Erik Lyle made his and he made a bad one. He did something very wrong and we have to deal with it. It's not right, but there's nothing we can do about it. We just have to know that it had nothing to do with us. We didn't chose this, and that's the important thing. That's what makes us innocent." Sara smiled through the tears running down her face.

"I'm getting life lessons from my teenage daughter. Shouldn't this conversation be the other way around?"

Allie grinned as she played with a loose straw on the table,

"Probably," she replied. "Now promise me you're not going to go around carrying guilt with you. It's not your fault; there's nothing you could have done to prevent it from happening."

"Ok, I'll try," said Sara, sniffing and wiping her eyes on a napkin. "But you have to promise me that you'll talk when you need to. You can't bottle all of this up inside yourself. It's not exactly a brilliant idea to be driving all over creation in the middle of the night."  
"Ok, it's a promise," Allie offered her hand across the table, to seal the deal. They shook on it, and Sara began to eat.

As they walked across the parking lot a little while later Sara took Allie's hand in hers.

"I love you honey," she said.

"I love you too mom." They climbed back in the car and Allie found herself hoping they had both learned something from their conversation. Her mom not to take the blame and she to talk when she needed to. _It's not healthy to bottle things up. From now on I'll try and find ways to express myself._ She smiled softly to herself. _We'll get through this, I know we will. I'm not sure how yet, but we will._


End file.
